Authors: Jennifer Probst
“Oh, but you will. You don’t have a choice in the matter. You can’t pretend everything that’s happened between us is null and void just because you want it to be. You lay in my bed and cried my name and took my body deep inside of yours. You gave me your heart and your mind and every inch of that delectable body.”
He lowered his head. His breath rushed hot against her lips. The hard length of his body pressed against hers, the heat from his skin radiated in waves, overpowering her senses with the scent of musk and lemon and soap.
In that moment she hated him as much as she hated her own traitorous body, already trembling, her breasts swollen and aching, the liquid throbbing heat pulsing between her thighs. She hated wanting him, needing him, loving him still, even though she knew it was all a lie.
“I will never give you anything willingly,” she said fiercely. Her nails dug into his upper arms in response to the raging emotions coursing through her. “My body may want sex, but my mind and heart will hate you.”
His mouth came down on hers, hard, demanding, his tongue plundering the dark recesses of her mouth with all the raw, seething sexual energy burning between them. She fought him just as hard, but his body slammed against hers, his hands pulled her toward him, forcing her thighs to open so she could feel his desire. His tongue thrust over and over again, until she gave him everything he asked for. Her hands gripped his neck and she opened her mouth fully to accept every dark, stroking motion of his tongue.
Her senses whirled out of control; she became a creature of feeling, each movement of his hand stoked the flames hotter and hotter, until nothing seemed to matter except to slake the hungry, empty space inside of her. His hands dragged across her breasts and rubbed the tight nipples, eliciting a low, animal groan. His teeth bit at her lower lip, soothed with his tongue, then slipped back into her mouth to taste her again, bending her backward over one arm as the kiss went on and on and on—
Suddenly, she was out of his arms. Her breath came in deep, ragged gulps, and she fought the dizzying sensation of being dragged away from his body. His gunmetal gaze drilled into hers, and his hand trembled slightly as he reached up to push the hair away from her face. The silence stretched between them as the sexual electricity sizzled through the air.
“I never wanted the damn contract,” Logan said. “This morning I told your father to go to hell, that I wasn’t involved with you to achieve the big prize. You were the prize. After everything we shared together, do you still believe I would choose money over you? And I never lied. I told you when we first made love that my body could never lie.
“Before you came into my life, I believed what everyone said about me. That I had no heart, and if it did exist, it had turned to steel over the years.” He paused. “But you looked into my eyes and showed me they were wrong. You made me whole. What you gave me is worth more than any damn business deal your father can offer. But I guess you don’t believe that either, do you, Chandler? I guess it’s still easier to believe a man who pretends to tell you what you want to hear. A man who’s safe.”
The words were like hard stone dropping between them. She struggled for control and stared at him. Her heart wanted to believe him, but her mind told her she needed to walk away from this man before he took everything she had and completely destroyed her.
“I don’t believe you. I don’t think I’ll ever believe you again.”
With a muttered curse, his whole body shook. Raw emotion shimmered in smoke gray eyes. She held her breath in fear as she waited, and then he turned on his heel and walked away.
“So be it. I won’t bother you again.”
“You look like hell.”
Chandler laughed at Harry’s concerned look and continued dragging over the mats for the start of her next class. “Thanks, buddy. I needed a little cheering up.”
“No, I mean it. I’m worried about you.”
She faced her friend. “I’m okay. Just a little tired. I’ve been working some extra hours.”
He grabbed her hand and led her into the office. Pushing her gently into the worn cushions of the sofa, he stared at her hard. She knew his gaze took in the circles under her eyes and the pale tone to her skin. Then he went over to the tea pot to pour her a mug of the steaming herbal brew. She sipped at it gratefully and prepared herself for one of Harry’s lectures.
“We need to talk.”
“How did I know this was coming?” The hot liquid trickled down her throat and warmed her belly.
“You can’t keep this type of schedule. Linda told me you doubled your class load, and you’re busy from six in the morning to late at night. You don’t eat. You don’t sleep. And Linda caught you the other day chugging down coffee when you thought no one was looking. You’re falling apart and the main reason is Logan Grant.”
Chandler winced at the sound of his name. Three weeks. Somehow it seemed like another lifetime, but at the same time, it felt like just last night she had woken up in his arms, snuggled against his warm body. Then she reminded herself sharply that she’d made the right decision. She’d been strong, and now she needed to rebuild her life.
The Yoga and Arts Center had become her most important goal. Knowing she needed to come up with a drastic plan in order to make up for the capital and time she lost, she dedicated herself to forming as many new classes as she could handle, while she and Linda worked around the clock to survive. Ironically, she was becoming a workaholic and the type of person she normally counseled about reducing stress. She reminded herself it was only for a temporary period, until she got her school back on profitable footing.
And, of course, until she exorcised the ghost of Logan Grant.
“Harry, I don’t have a choice right now. We’re sinking fast and I have to do everything possible to make sure it doesn’t happen.”
“Linda said Logan wants to hire you on a permanent contract with his company.” He studied her face. “You refused to even consider it. Two other corporations have contacted you about setting up a workshop, and you haven’t even pursued a meeting. That would save the Yoga and Arts Center without putting you in an early grave.”
“I don’t need his charity.” Temper surged within her. “The only reason he wants to finish this contract is because he feels sorry for me and guilty for everything he’s done. He’s probably contacted those other companies for the same reason. I can do this on my own.”
Harry didn’t say anything for a while. “Hmmm, interesting. Besides giving up your health you’ve acquired the trait of pride, which you always told me was a sin. You used to always say that accepting help from other people is sometimes the greatest form of strength.”
Chandler glowered at him. “I don’t need Logan Grant’s help.”
“I think he’s in love with you.”
Her mouth dropped open at her friend’s stark words. “That’s crazy. It was all a big game to him, he never loved me.”
“I think he messed up by not telling you about the meeting with your father and obviously regrets it. I think he’s the type of man to know what and who he wants without being influenced by your father’s money and power. I also think you’re terrified of believing him, because then you wouldn’t have an easy out of the relationship. I think you’re running away from love.”
“You think a lot, don’t you, Harry?” she muttered under her breath. Chandler buried her face in her mug. “Anyway, what about Richard? He’s still waiting for my answer to his marriage proposal. Don’t you think we’re better suited?”
Harry shook his head. “I think Thorne is lying and I think you know it. Believing Thorne is a lot easier. Cast Logan in the role of the villain, and you don’t have to deal with your feelings for him.”
“Did you two bond over a beer or something?”
Harry smiled. “Have you talked to your father?”
“No. I refuse to take his calls or see him.”
“Your father would be able to tell you the truth. If you’re ready to know the truth.”
“Why are you on Logan’s side?” she demanded. “My whole nightmare came true all over again. It was a replay of four years ago.”
He sat beside her and spoke in a gentle voice. “I know you went through hell. But Logan isn’t Michael, and I think you could get past it if you wanted to. Unless of course, you’re not in love with him. Are you?”
Did she still breathe and think and feel? Every part of her body ached for him. She had focused all her energy into work and hoped to drive away the urgent need to go to him. Even after everything he’d done, she still loved him. Nothing could take that away, not even working herself into the ground. A tiny part deep inside wondered if Harry could be right. Maybe Logan had decided to decline the contract. Maybe he had never lied when he spoke about his feelings.
Maybe she had made a terrible mistake and misjudged him.
Her mind went over the time they spent together. In the beginning, she had felt like it was all a game, but then something had connected them. She’d glimpsed a tenderness such an isolated man who was commonly called the “man of steel” should never have shown. He had made love to her and sworn his body wouldn’t lie. He’d sworn she could trust him.
He’d tried to convince her he told the truth, but she was so caught up in her own emotions, she hadn’t listened. And she hadn’t believed him.
Her mind swirled with a dizzying flow of thoughts. “Do you love him?” Harry asked again.
She nodded.
“Then what are you going to do about it?”
She turned to face her friend in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve always fought for what you wanted. When you make a mistake you apologize, fix it, and keep going. If you want him back you have to take the first step.”
“What if I judged him wrong?” she asked. Her lower lip trembled slightly.
Harry smiled. “What have you got to lose?”
A life of loneliness. Years of regrets. Nights spent alone in bed, wondering if she had made a mistake for giving up so easily. Suddenly, a blinding flash of realization coursed through her. She had to give it a shot. She needed to talk to her father about what happened. She had already wasted three weeks of self pity while she mourned her unhappy, unlucky existence.
She was damn tired of it.
She sprang up from the sofa and slammed the mug down. “Will you call Linda for me and have her take over my next class? I’m going to see my father.”
“Sure, no problem.” He watched her race out the door. After a moment, she peeked her head back in.
“Thanks, Harry.”
He laughed. “Anytime, buddy. Anytime.”
The modern high-rise building centered in the heart of Manhattan thrust toward the sky in rivalry with newer skyscrapers. Tracing the path she had followed since her youth, she waited patiently for the elevator to stop at the top floor, then walked through a long hallway filled with a string of secretaries. Her father had trained them well, as they all questioned her destination, and she’d been almost tackled by the older woman standing by the water fountain. The woman’s voice dripped icicles, and her eyes gazed behind thick, gray glasses. She liked Connie at Logan’s office much better, Chandler thought to herself absently.
The inside of his office was the same. The thick oriental carpet set off the rich wood paneling and cherry wood desk. Ceiling to wall windows tempted the onlooker to dream of money and power as he gazed over the city. Plush chairs scattered around heavily carved tables to relax clients, and a fully stocked bar took up one side of the room. The smell of cigar smoke still drifted in the air, and stacks of paperwork filled the room, bursting from every spare inch of space.
Alexander Santell looked amazed to see Chandler storm into his office. She hadn’t bothered to change, thinking her old sweat pants, faded t-shirt declaring the Yoga and Arts Center, and a pair of worn Reeboks represented her true identity best. She’d caught up her honey brown hair in a pony tail high on her head, and she knew her eyes shone with exhaustion. But a determined spark flamed within her and she directed it against him.
“Good God, daughter, what have you done with yourself?” He dropped a leather binder back on his desk.
Chandler looked around the office as the memories rushed back. Four years ago she had stood in front of her father in his own personal kingdom, an office where she grew up. Now, it didn’t seem to be as intimidating as she remembered.
Neither did her father.
He stood behind his desk. His figure emanated waves of raw energy. His silver hair was still thick and distinguished, marking him as an experienced adversary to the younger generation.
But something felt different. For the first time, she saw her father for who he really was. A human being who had lost his wife and only daughter. A man still fighting a losing battle to get what he wanted. Funny how she never really noticed before.